


The Ditch

by Defnotmeyo



Category: The X-Files
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-04
Updated: 2018-12-22
Packaged: 2019-06-21 14:59:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 6,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15560313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Defnotmeyo/pseuds/Defnotmeyo
Summary: A collection of Tumblr drabbles and prompt fills.  A dumping ground.  There will be monsters.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> It's occurred to me I have a lot of stuff I'd like to keep archived. There will be many chapters, I'm hoping, but nothing will be related.
> 
> Initial prompt: How long did it take Mulder to earn his red wings with Scully?

“Mmm…” he’s moving down her chin to her sternum, taking the time on the way south to flick her nipple with his tongue, then divert to suck the other in his mouth and release with a quick pop. She catches his eyeroll as he watches her tits bounce softly from the attention and groans as he humps himself against her thigh. “Jesus, you make me hot,” he murmurs and she answers him with a moan.

His tongue continues its journey to the southern hemisphere and it’s only when he’s slipping her panties off with clear intent that she remembers and tightens her grasp in his hair to pull him back north. She’s only moderately ashamed that his hiss of pain is like a direct assault on her clit and her hips pop in response.

“Mulder,” his name, full of mmm’s and uhhh’s and all those sensual syllables that accompany sex. “You can’t.”

He’s set a slow grind on her hips designed to drive her mad and she almost comes on the spot as he traces the whorle of her ear lightly before giving a quick thrust with his tongue and a tug on her lobe. “I can’t?”

“Mmm-mmm… S'that ti-”

“I know.”

They’ve been together like this for three months. Of course he knows. She’s also sure he remembers they’ve fucked before when she was on her period. But he’s never-

That damn tongue again and she groans. They may as well be fucking, their hips grinding and undulating, but he seems intent as he resumes his mission. He slicks a finger down and through her, drawing up a line of lust spun like silk, a hint of rust coloring the wet thatch he draws up her belly. He follows the slick of her with his tongue and she doesn’t think she even has enough time left in the process to actually let him go down. He’s going to kill her right there.

Push her off the ledge.

He settles on top of her belly and opens her mouth and her body to him, his tongue and cock thick and languid within her.

Her taste is headier, she realizes, tinged with iron as it is. Heady and alive.

Her “unnnngh,” in his mouth makes him smile aganist her as they set a in hard, slow tidal roll.

“Fuck,” he whispers, head buried in the crease of her neck. A nip on her collar bone. “You taste that?”

Her aroused huff answers him. Encourages him.

“That’s you Scully. That’s your,” a pounding drive, “fuckin-” pound, “life. That’s ahhh fuck… everything.” He groans again and rests a moment, trying to slow down. Too slow. His stomach presses into hers, trying to slow his breathing.

It’s too slow and she’s too ready so she threads her hand between them, fingers slicking around his cock buried nearly to the hilt, grabbing at their wetness and moving back up to stroke once, twice, and again on her clit and she’s gone around him while he lies prone.

“Fuck, Mulder!”

Her epithet moves him and now he’s off to the races, slamming her through her orgasm as he catches up and tumbles over after her.

They lay… sweat cooling… her hand still trapped between them. As her arm starts to tingle, she goes to re-position, but before she can wipe off her fingers he catches her hand. Runs his tongue between her fingers and sucks her off before sloppily landing his lips back over her own.

She understands then. There is nothing between them. Nothing. And everything.

Every single thought or feeling or shame-inducing notion that might exist is buried right there under his openness.

There is nothing from this man she wouldn’t be willing to take. And nothing she wouldn’t give.

“Get it?” He rumbles as he rolls off her and pulls her atop him.

“Yeah… yeah, I get it.”

They manage to stumble to the shower, together.


	2. Aural

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aural Skills

She’s always been a woman of action.

It’s not that she’s a prude.

Dana Scully is decidedly not prudish. As any lover of hers would lay testimony (and lay testimony they had… she can still remember her partner’s eyes blend to a muted gray as Ed Jerse described in detail what exactly had gone down in Philly as they sat at his trial).

Two weeks and four days into her sexual foray with her partner and she’s feeling decidedly dominate. Decidedly like she keeps him guessing.

And so with a cocky smirk while riding him cowgirl and a swaggering little eyebrow as his mouth gapes open in an aroused grunt, she breaks him like they’re at the rodeo, leaning back and making him crazy with a practiced massage over his balls. She presses down on his perineum and he damn near bucks her straight off.

And so it’s two weeks, four days, three hours and fifty-two minutes into her very non-platonic relationship with Fox Mulder that she sees, for the first time ever, that shift that sends his constantly-blending hazel irises into a very lethal forest green.

“Always have to have the fuckin’ upper hand, don’t you-” he breaks off as he grabs her shoulders, keeping himself buried hilt-deep as he swings his legs and flips them, “don’t you, Scully?” He starts his hips on a swivel as she gasps against his gunshot scar - the one she gave him. “Always gotta be the best, don’t you? The best at fuckin-” he fists her hair and nips at her neck.

She groans and shoves his face away. “That’s gonna leave a mark.”

“Yeah?” He pulls back, nearly out until just the head of his cock rests in her, and moves away enough to glance down between them.

She follows his gaze, sees him resting thick between her legs, and her eyes roll back as he drives home in a long and deep thrust. “God. Yes, Mulder.”

“Good. You mark me all the fucking time.”

Jesus he’s gonna drive her absolutely insane. Until this moment, Mulder’s been passionate. He’s been reverent. Thoughtful and loving and sensitive and almost everything she’s ever found herself unlikely falling for in him.

He hasn’t been this yet, though, she realizes as he starts a rhythm that’s going to mark them both.

He’s dropped his head down by hers and that come-fuck-me gravel voice of his has leveled from rough tenor to bedroom baritone. “Every fuckin day you mark me. You fuckin’,” he’s grinding his shaft as far up the slit of her pussy as possible, sawing in and out slick against her clit, “sit there with your looks, and your eyebrow, and your…” he pulls out completely, not letting her even take a second to catch her breath before he’s manhandled her onto her belly and pulled her hips back flush against him, “your little fuckin notes.”

“Ahhh, God dammit, Mulder,” she swears, trying to rest her head on her forearms.

“Uh-uh,” he corrects her, fisting the back of her hair like a bridle and pulling her up to her hands and knees. “You don’t get to rest, Scully,” he growls and the slap of his taut hips against her tight ass resonates metronome-steady against the walls of her bedroom . “Not for a single second while I fuck you.”

Christ. Two weeks, four days, three hours and fifty-six minutes into their relationship and she will always remember this moment when, in the future, he smiles that cocksure grin of his and asks, “Hey Scully, ‘member the first time we did doggie?”

Oh yes, she will remember. Because the pull of her hair, the pop of his hips, the way the word fuck sounds emanating off that suckable lower lip of his…

She’s flooding around him. They’re dripping sweat and there will likely be a Scully and Mulder shaped wet spot when all is said and done and the sheets will almost certainly need to be-

“Oh my fucking-” he breaks off with a particularly brutal thrust, “you’re fuckin’ soaked for me, Scully. You fucking love this don’t you? Love feeling my cock in you, don’t you?”

He grunts and God help her, she does. She does, she does.

She loves feeling him slide, slik-hot and pussy-slick in and out of her, between her lips. Laying her open to him, thick shaft laying claim to her.

God help her she loves it.

“Unh,” he brings her back with a grunt, “You’re so fucking wet, dammit so wet. Ah, it’s so good, dammit, Scully, you’re so damn tight…”

And this, she realizes, is the only thing that’s been lacking in the past two and a half weeks. Because while Mulder has been all the things Mulder usually is, he’s been too solicitous, sometimes almost too loving, too God damn reverent. She needs-

“Ah, yeah… You need this, don’t you?” he hammers her. "Need to be fucked. Need to be fuckin- ah yeah, c'mon, baby. Arch your back,“ he presses his hand down against her tattoo, changing their angle and now he’s sliding against her perineum and Jesus, “Yeah like that, arch your back for me.”

This is what she’s been missing. Because in the office, at their homes, he is so damn chatty. So damn Mulder. And while the previous two weeks have been soul shattering, this is what she needed most.

“Oooooh fuck, yeah,” she fists the sheets as he rocks her world. "This is how I like my Mulder.“

"Yeah?” he tightens down in her hair and pulls her back against him as he settles onto his haunches, torso flush to her back. "You like me like this huh? How? Like me fucking you like this?“ he runs a hand up her belly and over her breast, tweaking then tightening down on a nipple. "Riding you like this? Feel good to be ridden for a change, huh? Like me like this?” he repeats and she answers.

“Ah, Mulder yeah, I like you…” a particularly deep grind interrupts her train of thought but she recovers when he asks, “You like me how?”

“Aural.”

He’s animalistic then, as his other hand finally leaves her hair to begin a flawless and rhythmic dance against her clit. She envisions him having six hands, rubbing and tweaking and tugging everywhere at once and if anyone could figure out the otherworldly physics of that, it would be Fox Mulder. 

It’s only when he slides a hand back up and threads his index and middle finger in her mouth, between her cheek and her teeth, that she almost comes back to herself. Jesus Christ, Dana, she thinks, you’re spread out here on your bed, before all your neighbors and God, and this man is fish-hooking you. What on Earth are you-

As always, her space-cadet frees her from her earthly bounds with his words… "So fuckin’-, God, you know how much I fucking love you, Dana?“ and that’s it. That’s her trigger. She begins that primordial pulse around him. "Ah, Christ, you’re coming, aren’t you? Jesus Christ,” her newly religious man, “you’re so fuckin- dammit. Look,” he’s got his cheek pressed against hers and is staring down between her breasts and under her belly at where they’re joined. "Look at us. Watch me come for you.“

Medically, she knows how this works, but there’s a certain amount of awe that floods her as she sees his balls draw up tight a second before his cock unloads, surging himself within her and combined with her wetness, soaking down their thighs. 

"Ah shit,” he moans, as his orgasm begins to subside and he tugs her against him, rolling them both ungracefully off her bed to the floor with her atop him. 

She giggles. They are completely ridiculous and she doesn’t know why she ever expected anything different. 

He chuckles back against her, deep in his chest. "Dirty talk kinda got you goin’ there, G-woman. You gonna come as hard for me if I call you my little slu-“

She slaps his face, light enough to be playful but fast enough to sting. She pinches her thumb and index finger along either side of his jaw, forcing a pout and kissing him sloppily.

"Watch your mouth, Spooky, or else I’m going to start calling you Fox.”

She doesn’t miss the twitch that sends through his spent cock, and grins to herself as she staggers to the bathroom to clean up. Looks like aural skills might get a rise out of them both.


	3. Seals

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tumblr Prompt: AU - Mulder and Scully are two beautiful, majestic seals who hang out at pier 39. Told in five parts.
> 
> For the record, Pier 39 references the famous pier of San Francisco.

1\. She barks at her mother and gives her a fake charge the day her matriarch tells her to take a mate. She knows it’s time but all the bulls are… well they’re slovenly idiots. Just like her brothers. They grunt and moan and push and shove all day. They smell. And they’re just… the same. Half the time, they don’t even notice her because the red sheen to her fur makes her different and different is bad. She yearns for something different. Her brilliant little mind, the one that plays with the swimmers in Aquatic Cove, the one that sits outside of Yerba Buena Island wondering just what it is those funny folks on orange boats are doing… That mind is bored with the lazy, idiot males that call Pier 39 home. She loves the cool water but it’s become more crowded and she’s passed the horrifying scene of bodies in the estuary more times than she can count. There’s got to be something out there, she thinks. Something better.

2\. The young bull sea lion catches her eye because he is so much smaller than the other males. He’s obviously not hit full maturity, but it’s his spirit that enthralls her. He camps out, forging his own space on one lone dock, the one that catches less sun. He seems like a grouch, honestly, but that might be because the other bulls antagonize him. He’s off the dock every morning just after the sunrise and he doesn’t come back until late in the night. Half the time, he doesn’t come back at all. One night, curious, she follows him and realizes he’s headed for McCovey Cove. She chases after him, alarmed. McCovey Cove is where the fire is, regularly. The fire in the sky. She meets him at the bottom and makes contact, shouldering him and urging him to the surface. He follows her, but only to bark at her, argumentative, when they breach the surface. The people surrounding them on boats laugh. She dives back down, urging him to fight on their terms. Instead, he pats her with one smooth flipper and heads into the murky deep. She follows, and finds him playing with a red and white… ball? Ball… sitting on the Bay floor. She cocks her head curiously as he takes it in his mouth, and follows him up. When they break the water, he snorts and shakes his head, then lobs the ball her way. Reactionary, she catches it and he seems to cackle in that chattery kind of way, swimming backwards and clapping. Impulsive, She rears back and tosses the baseball back at him. Woofs in delight when he catches it. He holds onto the ball obsessively, and she finds herself amazed when hours later they float on their backs and watch the fire in the sky. It’s not as dangerous, after all.

3\. Her mom and brothers are pissed. She’s hanging out with that heathen more and more. They do silly things like toss horsehide back and forth on what’s come to be known as his pier. The male sea lion is weird. The group wants him gone. He brings weird things to shore and chatters about them. She spends more and more time with him off shore. One night she is struck under the hull of a boat and she falls unconscious, to the bottom of the estuary. He nudges her again and again and finally she manages to come awake and surface. He coulda died down there, the same as her, aching for air but he stayed til she was awake. She decides she will follow him anywhere. He decides he’s going to take them somewhere she’ll never be hurt again.

4\. They’ve taken to tossing the baseball back and forth on the pier when they’re bored. The locals love it and KTVU and KPIX run stories. “EVEN THE SEA LIONS ARE GIANTS FANS!!” the story runs. Pier 39 grows even more crowded. But one day, boring and rainy with only a few people, a little girl watches them from the pier. “Mom!” She can’t be more than 13. “Look at those dumb seals…” They’re tossing the ball back and forth, bored. “They’re not dumb, sweetie. They’re playing catch. That’s…” the mother is astounded. “That’s actually kind of awesome. You remember that T.V. show on Hulu I let you watch?” “That boring one with Moulder and…. what’s her face?” “Scully,” the mother thumps her kid on the ear and watches as the female turns sharply at the name, eyeing her with intelligence and sentience. The female sea lion barks back at her four times, playful and snorting. If she objects to them being named Mulder and Scully, it doesn’t show.

5\. Another season passes and the seas grow more crowded. The sea lion named Scully has to save Mulder from a plastic soda ring that nips into his fin. The older bulls laugh at him when he urges them it is time to leave Pier 39. Head north. He’s heard of an island the humans call Sitka. It’s cold, but more pure. As the Pacific waters grow warmer he grows more urgent. Scully, he says, come up. Come north. She hesitates and so he stays. It’s a dangerous trip alone. Six months later, her brother’s only pup is struck and killed by a propeller. Against her mother’s wishes, they set for Alaska the next day. They arrive, months later. Thinner and war torn, but alive. They don’t know if they’re in Sitka, but they’re somewhere, protected. Safe. “We need to bring the others,” she barks at him and he flops, exhausted on her. He agrees and they will. Those they can convince, anyway. But for now… now they rest. And some day, their sons and daughters will help bring the rest of Pier 39 up the coast and into the docile waters of the cool Canadian coves.


	4. The Desk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tumblr Prompt: Aaaand now I need a story where Scully grabs Mulder's ass and tells him to fuck her harder.
> 
> A/N... I guess I didn't full fulfill this. Close enough.

Their first time standing up. 

He’s made a list in his mind. A list of firsts, never to be forgotten. First time, of course, but she means everything and he wants to remember it all. 

First time in her apartment. First time on his fingers. First time with his cock in her mouth while kneeling on Bill’s spare bedroom carpet. Thank god for Thanksgiving.

Mulder chances a tight grasp in her hair. She’s bent like the best Tetris piece, L-block across their office desk. He pulls her up straight against him, squatting to keep his cock in her; to keep pumping her. Anchors himself with an arm across her chest and palm clamped on one gorgeous breast. 

Before he can say anything, she steals his thunder. “This all you got, Mulder?” she grounds out, fucking back against him. “This how Diana taught you to fuck? Like a,” she ah’s out a groan, gripping his forearm. “Like a pussy?”

Oh. Oh, that’s personal. 

Never in a million years could Mulder reason out what he does next. He pushes Scully forward on the desk into a standing doggie, rears back, and slaps her on the ass. 

And then has to bite the hell out of his lip to keep from coming because she tightens up on him like a waterproof seal. 

“Oh my fucking God, Mulder!”

And he’s off to the races, rebounding against her ass for all he’s worth. She’ll have bruises across that superior illac crest of hers. 

“That wasn’t very nice, Scully,” he grounds out and slaps her ass again. “Do I talk about Ed, huh?” He pops her hard with his hips and slaps again. 

She jumps against him so hard she almost broncos him off. But holy shit she is still coming and so for good measure he pops her one more time before pulling out and coming all over the tattoo with a grunt and repressed bellow. Mulder collapses on her, belly to back and gasping. 

He’s cognizant, though. He drags his fingers on either side of her, soaking in her slickness. 

She’s recovering, too, and he brings his wet fingers up to her eyeline to show her. Kisses her on the cheek and swipes his fingers on the desk, soaking the wood with her wetness.

Kisses her one more time as he slips out and moves to zip his pants. Heads to the bathroom. “Desk has always been yours, Scully.” 

He doesn’t look back as the door swings closed behind him.


	5. The Last One Stuck

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tumblr Prompt: Head canon about 5 lovers Scully had after she and Mulder became partners.

1\. Ethan is the opposite of Jack. His job isn’t incredibly exciting (he reports beat-level things, politicians kissing babies, fluff level stories), but where Jack was a boring and staid personally, Ethan is electric. Dana’s entire world is lit on fire when her professional and personal lives explode within months of each other. Suddenly everything she’d been working for, a life outside of mediocrity, has come to fruition. 

Ethan is constantly on the go, bringing her out of her shell. Her mother loves him and so does her sister and that says a lot. He’s full of boundless energy and damn if he doesn’t go down on her like a champ… best she’s every had. 

But that kind of electricity takes energy. Takes cultivation. And when her attention to Ethan begins to slip and give way to her new partner, sparks arc and fly. 

It erupts in white-hot anger one night. “If you love Mulder so God damn much, Dana, why don’t you start fucking him instead of just fucking with me?”

A crack of her palm on his face later, and she’s backing away horrified. She has never slapped a man before. “Get the hell out of my apartment, Ethan.”

“Dana…” he tries to patch and repair. 

“Get. Out,” her tone is soft and lethal. 

She doesn’t have the fucking bandwidth for this and her partner is… fascinating.

Ethan leaves, and for the next several months the job begins to consume her.  Her mother worries but Dana’s sure she made the right choice.  She’s sure as hell because she’s starting to think there might be something bigger in her and Mulder’s partnership… something more. 

She’s sure until the name Fox tumbles from her lips… until he says he made his parents call him Mulder but she very much remembers a tall, English brunette who called him Fox… And later when it’s all settled, Tooms is dead, and she crawls, bruised into her bed alone, that she thinks back to Ethan, who was also six feet of warm skin and big bones and would definitely be taking care of her right now… Dana finally lets herself cry. 

2\. Four years. Four fucking years of her life and what does she have to show for it?  

In all likelihood, four days from now she suspects an MRI is going to tell her she is going to die.  And she doesn’t even have a fucking desk in his basement office. Those files are his? They’re his life? She was just assigned. 

Congratu-fucking-lations, Mulder, she thinks. She’s vengeful. Bitter. She can’t wait for his God damn guilt complex to tear him limb from limb when she shows him what she knows is lying, no longer dormant, in her skull. 

Ed thrusts up hard and fast and she’s not completely ready and the fucking burn of it lights her on fire. She damn near comes right there on the first thrust against his wall.  

She couldn’t have bought a better carbon copy of Mulder and she revels in it, scraping her nails down his back and she’s sure she drew blood. 

“Like that, huh?” Ed groans as he fucks into her, reaching up a hand to pull her hair. He’s so God damn thick and so venous he scrapes her clit on every pass and she thinks, “thank God, thank fucking God for someone else besides me. For something else before I die." 

Her career is in the trash, her partner is alternately valiant and unreachable, and Ed just feels so fucking good, and so pressed there against his wall she howls into the night as they fuck again and again. 

But at the end of the night she still crawls into bed alone. 

3\. He’s so sweet she can’t refuse when he errantly orders them another round. 

Pendrell is sweet and cute and mild and everything her life hasn’t been that she forgets she hates that kind of life. 

But he orders and his face lights up when she accepts, and even still she can’t let him pay. She makes twice his salary and she just can’t. 

It turns out he lives near her and she agrees to let him walk her the half mile home, knowing if they get jumped she likely will have to defend him vice the other way around. 

And when they get to the door, he’s so fucking fumbling and awkward and so God damn sweet she just decides, if I’m going to leave one piece of myself in this world, it can be this, this one memory for this truly good man. And this one last time, for myself. 

She’s rewarded by the light in his face when she invites him upstairs. By the soft way he kisses down her chin. By the way he laves her nipples and spends almost too much time downstairs, trying to make her wet. 

She drags him up. "It’s hard for me sometimes, after a couple of drinks.” Pulls the lube and then pulls him into her. 

His, “Dana, Dana, Dana,” into her neck as he comes damn near makes her cry. 

When he leaves the next morning he sighs and gazes, lovesick as hell. “Next time, I gotta buy the drinks.”

Scully smiles at him, brushes his cheek. For her last time, this was perfect. This was something sweet. “You can buy me drinks anytime, Sean.”

She really didn’t expect to live much longer. And she didn’t really expect for him to roger up on his offer. And she really, truly didn’t expect for that to be the reason he died. 

4\. He was a beat-cop. Climbing the ranks to Detective and she could respect that.  And he had swagger. 

“Scully, FBI.”

Kresge had given her his card prior to her San Diego departure and a year later and two weeks after her blowout with Mulder in the Gunmen’s lair, Kresge’s card magically drops from some secret compartment of her suitcase. 

“I wonder…” she thinks, and so she calls. 

“Hell yeah, Dana Scully. Spooky town and freezer burn. Of course I remember you Scully FBI, but the real question is are you gonna reimburse me from being attacked from outerspace during your brief tenure in my life?”

She smiles, amused, “Have your union contact the Feds and we can negotiate. Hey um… I’m going to be in San Diego this weekend,” (she hadn’t planned on it), “and uh… I’m free Friday night if you’re interest in a nightcap.” (Of course she’s free, she hadn’t even called the airline, booked a flight or hotel… but she needs the cool of the Pacific swell and well… Kresge was cute.)

Cute turns out not to be the word for it. He’s ravenous.  An absolute animal between the sheets. They spend Friday flirting and Saturday fucking and the crash of the waves on the rocks outside her hotel still manage to drown out their cries.  

Personal? she thinks as she grinds on John’s pubic bone, riding him for all their life.  I’ll show his ass personal. 

And miracle of miracles, in the middle of her fuckfest with Kresge, her phone rings and she answers. “This better, unh” she doesn’t even try to hide it. “Be an emergency, Mulder.”

Kresge’s eyes dilate and she can tell he is so hot for her. 

Mulder’s voice is tinny and distant in her ear. “Scully? Scully it’s not- Jesus are you okay”

She continues to pump her newest lover, and she’s sure the slick sounds are audible across the country.  “Fine, Mulder, and if it’s not an emergency, I’m occupied.”

As she goes to hang up, she smiles as she hears his response, “Scully, what the fuck-”

5\. The last man Scully is with before she ends up with Mulder is Mulder, himself. 

She couldn’t write the irony better if she tried. 

But as she first enters her apartment after her imrpomptu Mission Beach stint, he slams her up against the wall next to her door. 

“That fuckin funny to you, Scully?” Mulder growls and for the first time ever, she feels a slight tremor of fear of him that pools in a slickness down from her pussy. 

Jesus… She really should go back to therapy. 

Judging by the roughly seven inches of hot length grinding against her, therapy is probably a good idea for them both. 

He’s leaned down in her space and she pushes against his face. “Get the fuck off me, Mulder. It’s my life. Get the hell out of it.”

He grinds himself against her, “if you wanted me the hell out of it, you wouldn’t answer the phone while you’re fucking another man.”

“Oh yeah, Mulder?” They lock eyes and she goes in for the kill.  “You sure you’re not just making this personal?”

His moan comes out like more of a roar and from there it’s on. Clothes are torn and it’s quite possibly the angriest fucking of her life. And that includes Ed. 

“God dammit,” Mulder mumbles, head tucked against her shoulder as he slips wetly out of her after. “God fucking dammit, this isn’t how this was supposed to happen.”

Scully rolls out from underneath him, he turns with her, and they lay like that, heaving belly to back.  She lays silent for the moment, wrapped up in him and clenching his forearms. 

Mulder kisses her, a nip on the jaw. “What the fuck, Scully? How do we fix this?” From behind her, he sweeps her hair off her sweaty brow. 

“Maybe we don’t.”

The room is dead silent and so their breath, finally starting to slow, echoes. 

“I refuse to believe that.”

And her bark of hollow laughter shocks them both. 

The last time he refused to believe something, he refused to believe she was going to die. And so when a man named Fox Mantle leaves her a message three weeks later, asking her to come to the baseball diamond, Dana Scully does something her Catholic-self is oddly notorious for being unable to do. 

She forgives. And they start over.  


	6. Continuum

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tumblr Prompt: What happens between Scully finding Lizzie Gill in her bathroom changing her pills, and her in the hospital finding out the baby is okay. (Essence)

Scully has Lizzy Gill locked in handcuffs before she can ask, “Who are you?” a third time. “You know what?” she says instead as she grabs the woman by the arm and turns her, throwing Lizzy into a tight wristlock and drawing a gasp of pain. Scully may be pregnant, but she’s still capable of defending herself.

“Move,” she orders and receives a slight push back. She tightens down on Lizzy’s wrist. “I said move, dammit! And you’re gonna keep moving until I tell you to stop.” On the slow walk to her living room, Scully makes a brief pause to grab her spare pistol from the table by the sofa, keeping Lizzy well in hand. 

“So help me God, Lizzy, I will put a bullet in you if you so much as move or open your mouth, you got that?”

She doesn’t have the bandwidth to deal with this woman right now. Not when her heart has dropped into her stomach and there’s even the slightest chance… No. She doesn’t let herself even think it. She gets Lizzy into handcuffs and isn’t surprised that her phone is already ringing. Has been nearly since the ordeal started.

“Mulder,” she answers for him, knowing who is on the other end of the line.

“Hey, everything okay? I know we don’t usually spare the niceties, but that was-”

“Mulder, get over here. Right now.”

This time he hangs up on her.

When Mulder shows up, it’s with Skinner and Doggett in tow. For once, he spares her door jam and uses his key, cautiously letting the door swing open. 

Scully doesn’t break eye contact with Lizzy. Simply sits across from the woman, seething in rage, hand on top of her gun which rests ominously on the table. 

“Scully?”

“Mulder, I need you to get this woman out of my house, and I need you to get me to the hospital. Now.”

“You heard her,” she hears Mulder say, looking over his shoulder. 

Skinner and Doggett push past him like the pair of mismatched disciples they’ve become, and because Scully is the one person none of them question, they avoid the Miranda Rights, pull Lizzy up off the couch, and have her essentially black bagged, coverting her down the back stairs and headed to the Bureau before another word is spoken. 

The door closes and it’s only then he moves in front of her without hesitation. Drops to his knees in front of her, puts his hands over hers, gently moving her palm away from the gun. “Hey, c’mon. It’s okay. Get your things; let’s go.”

She moves with phantom efficiency through her apartment. Underwear. Bra. Pants. Undershirt. Blouse. If today is the day she learns this sham of a life she leads is directly responsible for the death of another of her children, then she’s going to look respectable when they tell her the news. Keys. Identification.

It’s only when they are out the door, when she’s tucked safely away in the passenger seat of Mulder’s car. Only when she’s surrounded by the smell of leather and teak, sunflower salt and everything that makes Mulder smell like Mulder, that she finally breaks down in gasping breaths.

“She… She did something, M-mulder,” and God dammit she cries so much these days even with him back. She just wants it all to stop. “Something to the… to my vitamins. Replaced them.”

He’s gone pale next to her as he starts the car and heads for the hospital. Halfway there, he asks hesitantly, “Did you… did you call your mom?”

Everything about this baby has been a contentious issue between Maggie and her daughter, including his place in Scully’s life. 

“Shit…” Scully mutters as the crying stops, and sniffs. “I can’t do anything right.”

Mulder’s heart goes out to her. He grabs on to her hand across the console, and speeding down the highway to yet another hospital with yet another chance for really bad news, he holds on tight.


	7. Anal Aspirations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tumblr prompt: smut prompt for ya, if you're interested.... mulder fantasizing about fucking scully's ass. it's real dirty. mulderbation ftw

Her voice. Dammit, her fucking voice. It rattles me. Smoke over honey, whiskey on the still; she discreetly clears her throat and the rumble reverberates straight through my balls.

Arguments with her lately have become much, much harder. For lack of a better term.

Scully is red hot. Frozen eyes over a lava field a million miles deep and I’d been blessed by her own cursed saints the privilege to roll in her head for twenty thick and heavy minutes. Strapped to a bed and higher than a kite and all I could hear was “Live, live, live, God dammit fuck you Mulder fucking LIVE you asshole.”

Sort of said more than, “I love you,” ever will.

But right now? Right now she’s arguing over the most incongruous bullshit and her arms are crossed and that eyebrow is full tilt and I’m just so fucking-

“Stop.” I command, she oddly obeys, and fuck. I am hard as a rock.

“Stop?”

This is it. The chasm. The time to Make The Move. “There are only two things I want right now, Scully,” I grumble, moving her way. Knocking two folders off the desk with my thigh as I close the gap.

Christ. I don’t think she realizes every time she is pissed she huffs at me. With those damn lips and the damn mole and her damn mouth and that fucking eyebrow and by the time I’m there my fist is in her hair and I’m bruising us both, calculating how much of her lipstick I can take off in a kiss.

This isn’t about love. The first time was never going to be. It was always going to be possession. Dominance and control. Fear of falling and the strength to catch each other on the way down.

I can’t even believe I say it, as we fall into and against each other. She’s in my arms and then I’m twisting her down to the desk. Swiping the inbox tray to the floor. Her skirt up her hips. Her panties down and ripped from her thighs.

Index and middle finger soaked by her tongue and she’s ready, fuck she’s so ready, but I want her like this. I want it all. I want trust. I want-

“Mulder?”

“Scully.”

She grunts and ruts against my pelvis, wet curls scraping my cock and I moan.

“What? What are you waiting for?”

“Sculllllly,” I ground out and it’s a prayer, an epitaph. This next sentence is either going to set us free or send me to hell.

“What do you want, Mulder?”

I press her down to the desk and lean over her, tugging a quick nip on her earlobe. “I… Scully.” Fuck. I’m cum drunk. That’s the only excuse for the next sentence. “I want to fuck your ass.”

Her answering moan is all I need. Her pussy, slick as a warm Georgia night, slips down my cock as she lines me up to her back door and thank the cosmos I am passed the age of jizzing in my pants or on the initial thrust.

“Mulder?” She repeats. “Mulder, Mulder you there?”

“Scull-Scully?” Fuck. The phone slips from between my shoulder and ear, boomeranging between the coffee table and couch. “Yeah,” I grab the phone and swipe the sleepy drool from my mouth in the same move. Charming. “I’m here.”

Her snuffle of laughter warms my heart and shoots a little blood to my cock. My already very angry, very desperate cock.

“Go to sleep, Mulder. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

“Yeah, tomorrow,” I parrot and my dick twitches at the mechanical clack as her phone disconnects.

Scully. And her ass. I’ve never claimed to be a gentleman.

Sleep? Yeah, right. I give a tight tug with my right hand and groan, closing my eyes. It’s not a new scene, not to my apartment, and not to my couch. But I come in spray paint spurts that night, redecorating the walls with machine-gun jizz.

She’s there. In my grasp. And if I can finally work up the fucking balls, she’ll be here. Sooner than later.

Her… And that ass.


End file.
